


Them

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward, Blowjobs, Bullying, FIRST FEW CHAPS NOT EXPLICIT JOHNLOCK, Guns, Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Paintball, Pining, Rugby John, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Teenlock, haircutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock. John. Everyone. Anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Asexual

John sighed as he walked to Sherlock's bedroom door. Wine in hand, hoping to wake him up for an after case celebration.  I'm definitely not going to flirt with him , John told himself.

He turned the creaking knob and peeked in. "Sherlock, I've-" The words died in his throat.

Sherlock laid as he usually did. Stark naked, sprawled on his side, and disheveled. Never once in waking Sherlock up did he recognize the strawberry-blond stud that Sherlock squeezed onto like a pillow. This unidentified man awoke instantly. 

He sat up, shifting Sherlock off of him. The sheet contained him just barely. "Um."

"Jesus." John whispered it quietly, but he couldn't believe it. He couldn't. Nothing about this convergence of muscles, strong, large hands, and vast skin was believable. Not with Sherlock. "You don't do this."

Sherlock's eyes were peeking open, slowly. "I did it three times last night." 


	2. Head for Homophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reacts to homophobia

Sherlock looked at himself in the bathroom  mirror. "17...ugly...beaten-up...bruised... _gay_." He chanted at himself until he grew silent. His cheeks grew pink, highlighting the red-cobalt bruise not quite old enough to turn purple or black. 

Leaving his reflection, he began digging in his father's drawers, grabbing his clippers with a wide jerk and setting them on the sink. "Okay." He took a lungful of air and looked at himself again. 

Those large, masculine hands ran into his thick, curly hair. " _ okay _ ." 

He grabbed the clippers in his right hand and turned them on with a buzz. Without any noise escaping, he mouthed "Just one side." Then, the hand extended to his scalp.

The noise of the clippers rang differently as it encountered his skull, making it sound muffled and deep. 

The locks began falling, and with it, Sherlock felt his dignity restoring. 

No longer did he envision his classmates cornering him, taunting him, hovering over him. 

"Staring at the school jock, eh Holmes?" 

"Trying to pass notes to him! If I didn't know any better I'd say he was queer!" 

"Queer? Can't having you liking _dick_ , now can we?" 

The beating was alright. After the first punch to the head, everything got fuzzy and numb. But the clippers made him forget. The memory of waking up alone and in the dark got farther away. 

Before long, Sherlock had shaved off his  sidecut  and set the clippers down gingerly. Both of his eyes were swollen now, but from tears and he didn't even know if he was relieved or regretful. The rest of his curls however stayed  volumized  and unruly. 

"This is okay." He laughed it out, a hand coming to rub along his newly exposed skin and ruffle his hair. "Very okay." The laugh grew to an insane smile of his own acceptance. 

He looked down to the hair on the floor, then back up to his reflection, freckled with it's bruises and pale with shock . 

"I'm gay. So, what?"


	3. Puberty and Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reaches puberty.

They say puberty doesn't happen overnight. They say it's gradual. They say you'll have years to adjust.

Sherlock didn't know who _they_ were, but he knew _they_  were wrong. 

The teen had been experiencing voice cracks, but nothing exceptionally moving. It took a cold January morning for Sherlock to reach his school locker and say his first words of that day. 

Oh, he had his eye on Victor Trevor. Said hello to him every morning before sitting behind him in their first class.

"Hey, Holmes." Vic was walking by, a hand to wave at the genius and then pass him by, but the moment Sherlock opened his mouth with a,

"Hello, _Victor_.", the blond teenager turned his heel, front and center. 

" Shhh \- Sherlock." Victor smiled sly, eyeing Sherlock up and down with a sideways toothy smile.

It stunned Sherlock. Never once had he been given this attention. It took him three seconds longer to realize it was his voice that had coaxed his crush. The rather high-pitched, prepubescent voice was now deep, sultry, and precise.

To keep from losing Victor's interest, he tested his gusto out again. "Ready for language class?" 

For once, Sherlock saw Victor fluster a look, gazing off of him a moment to recollect. "Only if  you'll sit behind me." 

Sherlock's lanky height was in advantage now. He realized he could look Vic down and receive ruffled responses. "I'll walk you there, then." He shut his locker firmly, and lead Vic with a hand to the shoulder.

" _I'll let you_." 


	4. Paintball

They rounded John, the middle aged man, into a car. They blindfolded him and held the gun to his side. 

John didn't realized until he was thrown on a lawn and let the blindfold slip off that the men were actually teenaged boys. The gun was a paintball gun.

The first hit was _nothing_ _ nothing _ _nothing_... pain. 

After he lost count of the hits, he couldn't voice his discomfort anymore. The blue, purple , green, yellow splatters were actually punctured through his skin- a series of close range shots.

When it was over he was dizzy and a little faint. The boys came to him, helped him up with snide comments and smirks. They poked at the circles of indented flesh. But John let them help him up. 

They left him soon after. Left him to stand in the middle of unfamiliar grass. An hour later after calling Sherlock, he was found and put in a cab.

"Do you want to be taken to a hospital?"  Sherlocked  asked

John shook his head slowly, grimacing. "I want to take a shower and take pain reliever." 

Sherlock nodded, biting his lip. He looked over, eyeing a spot on John's neck then looked away. "They didn't use red did they..." 

"No, yeah that's blood. But I'm fine. Looks worse than it feels." 

Sherlock twiddled his thumbs, catching the blotches of paint and exposed skin. "Look. I apologize for what happened to you tonight. I wasn't there to stop them, and I owe you."

John intervened, putting a hand up. "You owe me nothing-"

"John, please!" Sherlock sighed, "Let me make you a bath, and prepare dinner. You don't have work in the morning, and I won't take on any cases. We can use the time to unwind." 

A giggle escaped John, "Sherlock Holmes and I are going to unwind together." 

"Oh, shut up. You're supposed to be in pain." Sherlock defended.

John silenced the cab, turning to look at the detective stiff-necked, "But really, Sherlock, thank you."


	5. 7 minutes in Heaven

John spun the bottle.

Sarah, okay, he can do this one. They stepped into the closet and spent their seven minutes in heaven kissing, hands over clothes, very polite. John c ould handle it.

Coming out was a power trip. People would clap, toasts would be made, plastic cups would be refilled, and claps on the back... John loved it. So, they went around the circle, spinning, hitting a person, going into the closet.

There had only been one girl-girl pair, and the boys went wild. No boys pairs. Not yet. Not until the eyes of the crowd centered on Sherlock.

The boy was skinny, not scrawny, and well known as the quiet kid who had good drugs. Most of the jocks gave him a hard time, though. Everyone watched. Watched as his hand came out, flicked the bottle with a twist of the wrist, and waited for it to slow.

John had never seen him participate. He didn't even know this kid, much less why he was here. But the bottle slowed to a  stop on him. 

"Oh, no  no no . Let the kid spin again!" John waved his hand around, looking at Sherlock with scared eyes as he pleaded soundlessly for him to just pick someone else. 

One of the girls spoke up, "I had to go in with Brit, don't make me push you two in!" 

John looked to her, then back at Sherlock who had shied his gaze away. John grunted, "Mm, fine. Hey kid, what's your name?" 

The boy licked his lips, "I'm Sherlock Holmes." 

John stood then made h is way to the closet, "Nice to meet you, Sherlock Holmes, I'm John. Now, come on."

That left Sherlock to stand and walk in the quiet with eyes  gocking  at him. He eyed everyone, saw all their flaws and judg ment , but said nothing. He walked into the closet, locking eyes with John as he closed the door. 

"I'm going to give you a hickey." Sherlock stated.

They were both on the far walls of the small closet. Staring at each other. 

John choked a look, "No, you're not! I'm not gay." 

Sherlock laughed, "A hickey! Just one, so they think we did at least something and leave us alone. Or would you rather us stay in another seven minutes." 

John thought about it a moment, his head hitting a hanger in the quiet. "Uh, sure. Do it. Just be careful." Theirs knees bumped awkwardly, and John tilted his head to the preferred area he'd like his bruise .

"I will." Sherlock spoke softly. He leaned forward, close in John's personal space, then wrapped one arm around John's torso, and the other at the nape of his neck. '

John shuddered as he felt Sherlock's breath tease the skin. Then, a tongue came out and lapped and wet the place. 

It was a muffled, open-mouthed sound. 

Then, Sherlock pressed his lips down, and suckled. 

John never had received a hickey, in hindsight. He realized he was always giving the bruises instead of getting. And it felt pretty good. Something he wouldn't mind getting in the long run.

Sherlock licked at the spot again, his breath hitting the moist skin and cooling it. This time John let a noise escape. 

" Shh ." Sherlock whispered, then placed his lips again, much higher, closer to John's jaw line. He went straight to pulling to skin into his mouth and sucking. He held onto John tighter, since the other teen was beginning to lose himself. 

John was in a place in an instant. He like d  hickeys a lot. So much he felt a pool of blood and panicked.

He shoved Sherlock away with a harsh movement, a hand coming down to conceal himself. "STOP! Stop..." His eyes closed.

Sherlock wasn't hurt, though, he was happy. He glanced at John's hand covering his crotch and back up to John's neck. The first one was already peppered red, and the second was forming nicely as well. "You should try experimenting, John. I would n't  mind taking you into the guest bathroom and giving you a  wank  right now."

John opened his eyes at Sherlock's bluntness. "I'm not gay!" 

"That's why I said, experimenting. You say you're not gay, but liking girls doesn't automatically make you straight ." Sherlock kicked off the wall and back into John's space. "Like I said, meet me in the guest bathroom and we'll test my theory." 

John swallowed, removing his hand from his crotch. "You were just supposed to give me a hickey. You weren't supposed to make me question my life." 

Sherlock looked to the door, "Well, it's your sexual life, not your whole life. And I am fairly certain you don't believe yourself when you say you're not gay." 

There was a noise from the other side, then the door swung open before John could process.

As the group split up and the party grew wilder, John couldn't stop looking down the hallway. There was one door labeled 'bath' and he was certain Sherlock was in there. What he was doing in there was another question. 

John left the small group he was chatting with to excuse himself to the restroom. Curiosity was  getting the better of him.

He collected himself with a strong breath before opening the door. 

Pot. Sherlock was smoking pot inside. 

"Close the door!" Sherlock yelled. The shout made John slam it closed with a jump.  Him inside.

"Jesus! You're smoking weed." John waved the smoke around with a hand, the smell strong.

Sherlock put the blunt down, and walked to John. "Yes, and you took me up on my offer." 

John felt regretful. He did. He was propositioned and he fell for it. "I'm sorry I should go." 

Sherlock pulled and grabbed at his wrist, "Wait! No! I'm sorry, actually. I really like you and want to do this for you."

John sighed, turning back. "You don't even know me." 

It was untrue. John was on the rugby team. He was a jock. He was handsome. Sherlock had been crushing on him since he saw their first game. If one were to look inside Sherlock's economics journal, they'd see sketches of the boy. "No, I've known you since freshman year, it's you who doesn't know me. Because I'm nobody, I'm that kid who gives the jocks steroids, who has heroin under his bed, who smokes weed in the boys bathroom. I know you." 

John frowned, and Sherlock thought he lost him but John was getting closer. Closer. There was purpose in the moment John pressed his lips against Sherlock's. It felt good to John, it felt different to kiss a boy, it felt racy to feel another male's lips. But John held down his excitement because he wanted to throw his affections towards Sherlock. 

Wanted to make him feel better.

Sherlock responded with a groan, wrapping his arms around John's neck and pinning him against the wall. He delicately placed his tongue on John's lips, then was let inside. Sherlock felt safe in John's presence. 

They licked at each other, then separated with a small peck from Sherlock. The younger boy smiled deviously, then sunk down. His knees on the tile. 

John's heart wrenched. He became aroused just the watching and feeling Sherlock tug the belt loose. 

"I'm not going to last long." John revealed.

Sherlock bit his lip, undoing the zip and button carefully. "I just need you to come." And he pulled John out.

Sherlock's hand rested at the thick base, and he took the bulbous, pink head into his mouth without thought. John rested his head on the wall, closing his eyes.

Sherlock went as far down as he could go, wetting the cock with his tongue, then settled on stimulating the head with quick slurps up and down. His hand pumped what he didn't reach. 

John's hand encouraged him, running through Sherlock's curls trying not to pull. 

Tonguing the slit, Sherlock began getting desperate. His free hand hurriedly pulled himself out, stroking his smaller length with fast strokes.  He moaned onto the cock, taking it deeper and bobbing his head faster.

" Shh -Sherlock! Fuck, just. Slow down.. I'm  gonna -" 

His pleas died off. Sherlock began jerking John in time with himself. John clenched his teeth, digging his fingers in the dark locks as he came. Sherlock swallowed at each jump his cock made, speeding his hand on his own as he spilled messily over the clean tiles. 

Not until John was soft and whining from sensitivity did he pop off and tuck both back in their trousers.

"You" Breath "You are brilliant." John looked down and instead of pulling Sherlock up, he bent down as well. "Absolutely, brilliant."

Looking up to stare at John, he began blushing. "I don't know about that." 

John kissed him softly. "You should."

Sherlock's eyes feel heavy with his hand and face so close to his. It's a good kind of sleepy. "We could leave this as a one time thing, John. We could be just acquaintances." 

John shook his head, taking Sherlock's hands and standing with him. "What if I don't want that? What if I want to get to know you a little more?" 

Sherlock smiled, licking his lips, "That could be arranged." 

One more peck, "Deal."


End file.
